


The Absence of Light

by arcadian_dream



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He arches back, moulding his body to Toby's, as though cupping the whole of him in the hollow of his abdomen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absence of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 round of the Oz Magi Exchange.

It is immense, the darkness.

Extending grasping fingers like tendrils towards the light, before quashing the glow unceremoniously in palm of its imperceptible hand; snuffing it out like the faltering flames of a waning candle.

It engulfs the light, whole.

A great, undulating python swallowing a pitiful, scrambling rodent; clenching it in its jaws: crushing it.

This is the darkness, the night, in Oz.

And it terrifies Chris.

He will not, he knows, ever say such a thing. The silent admission is, in itself, like the notion that inspires the feeling - that which fans the fearful flames into existence like some enormous, pumping bellows, being worked by some omniscient, unseen hand.

It is a thing of which to be frightened.

This knowledge – the weight of it within Chris – in the burning embers of its presence in the pit of his belly; the acridity of it on his tongue – is so great that he thinks it might crush him.

And so – it is in this dark, terrifying and inescapable, that he reaches, like those same searching tendrils of darkness, for Toby.

He clings to the man that shudders and writhes and pants beneath him. His fingers dig mercilessly into the taut skein of flesh stretched over Toby's hips as he rocks into him, his rhythm steady but his breaths increasingly erratic.

He arches back, moulding his body to Toby's, as though cupping the whole of him in the hollow of his abdomen.

He can feel the slick of sweat as his chest brushes Toby's back; as his shoulder blades twitch and Toby's palms grasp frantically for Chris' buttocks in an attempt to draw him nearer.

As Toby's groping fingers graze the skin of his backside, Chris slows his movements. He closes his eyes, shutting out the darkness by plunging deeper and further into it; he submerges himself in the absence of light that swallows Chris' vision; that shimmers behind his eyelids.

Here: where the feel of Toby's skin on his is the only thing that matters; where the taste of him simmers on his tongue as he runs it firm and flat over Toby's neck before reaching the fleshy bulb of his earlobe which Chris takes into his mouth and sucks as though it is all that he has.

Here: where Chris hooks his arms underneath Toby's and clings to him, holding him as though he cannot get enough of him: as though there simply are not enough parts of which Chris can grab hold; as though he is trying to pull Toby apart; take the pieces into himself and drown in the sheer _feel_ of him.

Here: where he slides increasingly and torturously slowly into Toby; where Toby stiffens beneath Chris, and the tension of their impending climax courses through both men and it feels like it might just tear each of them in two, splitting the seams of them until they lie boneless and quivering.

Here: where Chris comes, and loses himself entirely in Toby; where he succumbs to an oblivion that is always just beyond his reach.

Where, for a moment, the darkness is gone, eviscerated in the blinding light.


End file.
